Battered Hearts
by GuitarGurl1983
Summary: Harry and Hermione must deal with the deaths of their beloved spouses, and a new threat to the wizarding world.
1. Chapter 1: Battered Hearts

Battered Hearts

Battered Hearts

Chapter 1

Ginny Potter sat cross-legged on the living room floor at Godrick's Hollow. Three year old James Sirius laughed as Albus Severus climbed over mummy like a human jungle gym. All three looked at the fireplace as the flames burned bright green, signaling either a floo-call or floo-visit from one of their friends or relatives.

Hermione's face appeared, contorted in agony, a large hand in her hair forcing her head back so that her skull touched her spine. One eye was swelling badly, nearly shut from a fresh bruise. Missing and broken teeth showed through bloody lips.

The face in the flames barely managed to croak "help!" as the image was drawn back through the fireplace.

Ginevra Potter was so shocked by the brief apparition in her living room fireplace that, for an instant, she didn't believe her eyes. Then she burst into action, screaming "accio wand" and "Kreature!" in the same breath.

The old elf appeared instantly, sensing his mistress's urgency, "Yes, Mistress?"

"Watch the boys; I have to see my brother!"

Mistress Ginevra going to see her brother and his wife was not unusual, her throwing a fistful of floo powder and diving into the green flames headfirst with her wand drawn was.

"Granger-Weasleys" she shouted as the green flames enveloped her.

The next day a banner headline in the Prophet blared:

"**Potter and Weasley Siblings Slain"**

"**Wizarding World Shocked, Grieving"**

Story by Dennis Creavy

Full details are not available to the press at this time, but what this writer can tell you is that not since the days of Tom Riddle's reign of terror has such wholesale carnage been delivered upon one family.

The three recipients of the Order of Merlin, First Class, lay about the living room of the Weasley Flat in North London. Ginevra Potter's body lay over the beaten and battered form of her best friend; Mrs. Potter appears to have been the victim of a powerful _reducto_ at close range.

Ronald Weasley, who had evidently been fighting off his wife's attacker, had been hit with a powerful banishing curse. "Even a banisher can be fatal if the person on the receiving end hits a far wall with enough force," Said Auror Baxter, the first ministry investigator on the scene.

Mrs. Hermione Granger-Weasley remains in serious but stable condition at the Fred Weasley Trauma Center at St. Mungo's. A poignant reminder of just how much this family has already given in the defense of Magical Britain.

Hermione blinked twice, displacing the grit in the corners of her eyes then focused on warm green walls and white ceiling tiles.

"Hospital room, probably St. Mungo's."

"Right in one, Hermione."

"Harry?"

"Right here."

"How did I get here?"

"Our old friend Kreature came and got me. I flooed over to your flat and, well, lets just say you were in bad shape, and I brought you straight here."

Hermione couldn't believe Harry was being so matter-of-fact about this, he must have seen her freshly beaten body on the floor, he must know. . .

"Ginny?"

Harry flinched, slightly. Oh God, oh God, oh God! He was in his "professional DMLE" mode. He was being coolly aloof. This wasn't a visit, it was a bloody investigation.

His voice was warm and gentle as he asked, "Can you tell me what happened, Hermione?"

She turned over in her bed, facing away from him.

"Please, Harry, can't it wait? I'm tired, so very tired."

"Of course, Hermione, I'll have someone posted outside your room in case you need to talk with someone."

Hermione's mind worked furiously, that guard on the door wasn't to keep other people out, it was to keep her in. What she said was, "Thank you, Harry," before closing her eyes.

A/N: If this story makes sense it's because of my wonderful Beta, PerfesserN. If he weren't completely devoted to his wife, lucky lady that she is, I'd be all over him. I wonder if she shares. . .

Kidding, I'm just kidding.

This is my first story so if you like it please review, if you hate it, please review and tell me why it sucks, okay?

Okay.

GG


	2. Chapter 2: Suspect

Chapter 2

Chapter 2 - Suspect

Harry sat in the waiting room at St. Mungo's clearing his mind, concentrating on the image of a candle's flickering flame. This was the first step to rebuilding the walls around his emotions. If he let those walls fall he would see Ginny, the mother of his children, her beautiful face contorted in pain, she'd died in pain . . .

Concentrate, keep the flame. Use the flame to cast out the darkness. Find the blocks and build the walls high and strong.

After a while his breathing calmed and he opened his eyes to see Neville Longbottom sitting in the chair across from his, also deep in meditation.

Neither man spoke.

Neville's eyes opened slowly.

"Harry."

"Neville."

"I'm so sorry Harry."

"Thanks, Neville, it means a lot to me."

"How's Hermione?"

"Better."

"Can she have visitors?"

"Yeah, I think she'd like to see a friendly face about now."

"You coming?"

"You go first. I'll be along after a while."

Neville stood and walked to Hermione's door, only to be blocked by the maroon cloaked auror already standing there. The guard looked at Harry, who nodded his head, before letting Neville into the room.

Harry pulled the small signaling mirror from his coat pocket and activated it. It was keyed to the large mirror on Hermione's hospital room door. He watched and listened.

"Neville!"

"Hello Hermione, feeling better?"

"Much, thank you."

"I came as soon as I heard. I'm so sorry Hermione, if there's anything, and I mean anything I can do, please don't hesitate to ask."

"Thank you Neville, you're a good friend."

"Not just me, Harry's here too."

"He didn't come in with you."

"Harry really wants you safe; I didn't think the auror at the door was going to let me in."

Hermione's expression fell at that.

"Oh yeah, regular VIP here!"

Neville looked surprised at that. "Have you seen Rose?"

Hermione huffed at that, "She's with my parents for now, they plan to bring her by this afternoon, or so I hear."

"Hermione, I'm confused. What's going on?"

"Neville, that auror at the door?"

He nodded.

"He's not standing there to keep me safe; he's there to keep me from going anywhere."

"You're a prisoner?"

"I think the word is "suspect." St Mungo's has wards around it to prevent apparation except in designated points, like the reception area and the emergency room. The same for portkeys. And I'll bet galleons to doughnuts that our conversation is being monitored and recorded."

As if on cue Harry knocked on the door.

Neville started.

Hermione sat up in the bed, "Harry? I didn't get a chance to say how sorry I am about, about. . ."

Her eyes filled with tears and she couldn't speak.

Neville stood and wrapped his arms around Hermione's shoulders. Why wasn't Harry comforting her? And this nonsense about her being a suspect? That's fuckin' bollocks!

"Why you, Harry?"

"Why me, what?"

"There have to be other aurors who can do this investigation. I think you'd be a little too close to the case as it is – aren't there policies about that?"

"Yes, but I honestly believe I can do this. If I didn't someone else would be handling the case and Hermione would be in a holding cell somewhere."

The lady in question looked at the man she'd thought was her best friend.

"How are you doing this Harry? It's like you don't feel anything. How have you turned so, so cold?"

"Occlumency, I'm a master occlumens these days."

Neville turned red-faced and nearly shouted, "Your wife is dead, Potter. So is Ron, remember Ron? Your best mate and Hermione's husband!"

The pregnant pause followed was broken by a discrete knocking. Harry opened the door and accepted the envelope from the auror on duty.

He removed the parchment and began to read as Neville comforted Hermione.

"Neville, I'm sorry, but could you excuse us for five minutes?"

Neville looked at Hermione who nodded and reluctantly released him.

As soon as the door closed Harry asked, "Why didn't you tell me Hermione?"

"Tell you what?"

"I have the results of your medical scan here. Multiple healed fractures, evidence of major organ and soft tissue trauma. The healer's report says the results are consistent with those of a professional boxer."

"That was the only time he'd ever lost control like that, usually we'd argue about something and then he'd slap me, "to get my attention," he'd say."

"No, Hermione, these injuries, broken bones, broken teeth, bruised internal organs, are indicative of chronic spouse abuse."

"I think I'd remember. . ." her face lost all color, "oh god!"

"Apparently Ron learned a thing or two from Gilderoy Lockhart."

"All those mornings that I woke up sore, I believed him when he said we'd just gotten drunk and "frisky." I never drink that much."

"So when it looked like he was going to beat you to death you struck back?"

"No!"

"It's a perfectly sound defense; you were protecting yourself and your unborn child."

Hermione's eyes went wide, "my what?"

"Surely you know you're pregnant."

Her eyes rolled up into her head and she fainted.

Harry's attention was diverted by a scuffling sound at the door. When he opened it he saw the auror attempting to put Neville in a choke hold. Neville, having learned how to avoid those, snaked his hand up the auror's back, grasped a handful of hair and pulled down hard. The auror fell and Neville had the business end of his wand pointing between the DMLE man's eyes before he could draw his own.

"You said five minutes, it's been five minutes."

The auror on the ground snarled "I'm placing you under arrest for the assault and battery of a Department of Magical Law Enforcement Officer. . ."

Harry's voice was soft as he said, "No, Stebbens, you're not."

"But sir!"

"Think about it man, do you really want the details coming out that a civilian took you down so easily? Not a career enhancing move. Now, learning from your mistake? That would be a good thing."

Neville stepped back and Stebbens got up, dusting himself off as he did.

"Can I see her, Potter?"

"She's just asleep, Neville, let's give her some time. I have quite a lot to suss out here. Care to be a sounding board?"

Neville shrugged.

)O(

"What I'm going to tell you has to be held in the strictest confidence, all right?"

Neville nodded.

"Remember how the papers said she'd been badly beaten?"

"Yeah."

"Ron did it."

Neville's look of incredulity fell as Harry nodded grimly.

"Ron's been abusing Hermione; it's been going on for years."

"Why would she stay in an abusive relationship?"

"Why does anyone, Neville?" Harry looked away as he added, "She was surprised to find out she's pregnant."

Neville's mouth hung open for a moment before he asked, "How could she not know?"

"Apparently she's been obliviated, several times."

"Oh god, no!"

"This case just keeps getting better and better. The priori on Ron's wand shows several bludgeoning curses. Hermione's wand was locked in a drawer in Ron's study."

"So she was defenseless?"

"Pretty much."

"I always knew he had a temper, but this. I thought he loved her."

"Neville, do you know the number one reason given for murdering a spouse, magical or mundane?"

"No."

"Quote, 'Because I loved her,' unquote."

"So she gets off on self defense?"

"No."

"No?"

"She gets off on account of she didn't do it, she couldn't have."

Understanding dawned, "she didn't have a wand!"

"Correct, locked up in Ron's desk drawer."

)O(

Harry knocked on the hospital room door then opened it enough to put his head in, "Hermione? I have someone here who wants to see you."

She sat up and saw Harry holding his one year old son and leading her 15 month old daughter into the room.

Hermione slid from the bed to her knees and scooped her daughter up in both arms.

"Oh Rose, Rose, Rose, my little Rose!"

"Auntie HewMynee!"

"James!"

Three year old James Sirius Potter ran up for his hug as well.

Albus Sirius wanted in on the hugging action too so he fussed until Harry put him down to could totter over to his auntie.

"Would you like to take the boys home?"

Her eyes went wide, "Can I, I mean, I'm free to go?"

"Yep, the doctor says you're fine, physically, and I happen to know you're not guilty of any crimes, so. . ."

Hermione stood, holding her daughter and nephew and started for the door.

"Um, Hermione, would you maybe like to get dressed first?" He handed her a garment bag. "I'll take the kids."

She blushed furiously and nodded.

She opened the bag to find a day cloak, skirt, blouse, underwear, the simple comfortable brown shoes she favored and her wand.

Five minutes later she was dressed and out the door.

Fifteen minutes she and Harry and the kids were in the London flat that she and Ron and Rose called home.

It was clean, almost too clean.

Harry went into the kitchen to put the kettle on.

Hermione took Harry's cloak and put it in the hall closet next to hers . . . and Ron's.

It hadn't really sunk in yet.

All his stuff was still there.

If she went into the bathroom all his toilet items would be there.

If she went to bed she'd still smell him on his pillowcase.

"It's like. . ."

"Like he's going to walk in any minute, right?"

"Yeah."

"Hermione, I'm going to need something from you. Not today, not tomorrow, but soon."

She nodded her understanding, "You'll want my memories of the, um, incident, right?"

"Yeah, I can bring a penseive here or you can come to my office at the DMLE."

"Don't you have everything you need, Harry? I mean. . ."

"We have a pretty good idea of what went on, but we need a first hand account, so. . ."

"How about eight o'clock on Wednesday?"

"That will be fine, Hermione."

"But I need something from you too, Harry."

"What's that?"

"I need you to drop your occlumency shields."

He hesitated before answering.

"Later, perhaps. I still need to get through this investigation."

"Harry, your sons, remember James and Albus? They need a father now, and this Mr. Spock thing is not helping them."

Some of the foundation blocks of Harry's occlumency came loose as she said this.

"I, I can't. Not just yet." He took a deep, calming breath. "Soon. I promise."

"Do you want me to watch the boys today?"

"That would be very helpful, thank you."

Normally Harry would drop James and Albus off at the Burrow, but Molly and Arthur were grieving the loss of their two youngest children right now. Something that Harry didn't have the luxury of doing.

"I'll be back around five."

"I'll fix us all some dinner then, you can feed my Rose and I'll take care of Albus, all right?"

"See you then."

)O(

Author's Note: Pretty open and shut case, right? Care to guess what happens next? What will the penseive reveal?

Keep reading for the answers to these and other unasked questions.

Please, please review. I see lots of hits on the story but pitifully few reviews.

Again, thank you to my beta reader, PerfesserN, love you, love your work. Family Issue was inspiring!


	3. Chapter 3: Walls

Chapter 3

Chapter 3

Upton Stebbins scanned the post mortem on Ginevra Weasley-Potter and shuddered. He didn't want to be the one to deliver this to Harry Potter. He felt bad enough being taken down by Longbottom at St. Mungo's, now he had to be the one to bring his supervisor _this_.

Harry watched the rookie from across the room. He knew he wasn't going to like whatever it was Stebbins had for him. He checked his walls - stronger than ever, good, let's get this over with then.

"Stebbins! Do you or do you not have that report?"

The auror hurried over to the door marked "Potter."

"Sir, you really should let someone else take this case."

"Is that your professional opinion, Stebbins?"

Knowing what was in the report gave the rookie the courage to answer, "Yes sir, it is."

Harry raised his eyebrows at that. He'd taken the younger man on as a project when another, more senior auror had declared him "hopeless." Now his "stray" was showing some spirit. Harry approved.

He took the report and scanned it for pertinent details.

. . . ruptured aorta, extensive damage to liver and intestines.

. . . greenstick fractures of clavicle and ribs, sternum separated from ribs.

. . . extensive trauma to fetus.

Stebbins could tell when Potter read the line about his unborn child. It would have been kinder to stupefy the man and obliviate him, but then he would go through the pain of finding out all over again. He might be a rookie, but he could tell that Potter was hanging on by a thread.

"Sir," the man said, gently, "you should go home sir, we can't do any more until Mrs. Weasley gives us the penseive evidence."

Harry nodded and accepted the man's offer to escort him to the large floo fireplace. Stebbins guided him onto the bricks, then stepped back to fling a handful of floo powder, and shout "Godric's Hollow!"

Harry disappeared in a whirlwind of green flame.

His own fireplace leapt to life and disgorged him. He fell to his knees onto the hearth rug and mercifully passed out.

He found himself walking on a pathway between two lush, green hills. The path curved to follow the contour of the hills. Ahead stood a short stone wall, part of a footbridge across the stream that paralleled the pathway. Seated on the bridge was a little ginger haired girl, a child of indeterminate age. She looked familiar.

"Rose?" he asked, "Is that you Rosie?"

The little girl looked up and beamed at him, crying "Daddy!"

Harry went down on his knees and gathered his little girl, his unborn child, into his arms.

"Its okay, Daddy, I'm fine here, isn't it beautiful?"

"Yes, baby girl, it's beautiful."

"Mummy says we'll be here when you come back."

"Is Mummy here, sweetheart?"

The little girl shook her head, sadly.

"I gotta go, now, Daddy. See you soon, okay? Just not too soon!" she admonished.

"Can't we stay a little longer?"

"Nuh huh, we both gotta go."

She hugged him once more, then began to move away. Not walking, just . . . moving.

"Daddy?"

"Yes baby?"

"What's my name?"

"Lily, sweetheart, Lily Luna Potter."

Again that bright smile.

"I love you Daddy!"

"I love you Lily!"

"Harry!"

The harsh voice, on the verge of panic, called again, "Harry!"

He opened up his haunted eyes and saw Hermione's tear streaked face.

"Oh thank God! Harry, you were passed out on the floor, I almost tripped over you coming out of the floo!"

"I'm all right, Hermione, I'm . . ."

At that point the dam burst, all the pain and grief of the past three days caught up with his unprotected psyche. He held onto Hermione like a drowning man holds onto anything that floats. He didn't cry so much as he howled. For Ginny, for Ron, for Lily, the daughter he'd never know.

"I'm here, Harry, I'm here for you. That's it, let it out, let it all out." She held him as he'd never been held by his own mother when he'd needed to cry.

Neither one of them knew how long they kneeled there on the fireplace rug, but when they separated, exhausted and tear streaked it was Hermione who took Harry's hands and stood with him.

"Go in there and take a shower and get ready for bed, I'll be back with the kids."

Harry didn't question her, he just nodded and went into the bathroom, stripped off his clothes and took as hot a shower as he could stand. Years of cleaning up after the Dursleys made picking up after himself and wiping down the bathroom surfaces when he was finished second nature. He wrapped a towel around his hips and padded into the master bedroom to put on his pajamas and a housecoat.

When he emerged into the living room he saw Hermione sitting on the couch reading to James, Albus and Rose.

"All done then? Good. My turn."

Saying this she went into the bathroom to prepare herself for the night.

"Daddy?" James asked, "are you back now?"

"What do you mean son?"

"Well, you been, um, not here."

Harry understood. His three year old son could tell he'd had his "walls" up.

He kissed the top of his son's head and said, "Yeah, I'm back now."

"Good. Auntie Hew-my-knee was readin' to us."

"Fancy that."

"Can you finish?"

"Sure." He said, plopping down on the couch, where he was immediately swarmed by three small bodies, "where were we?"

"If you give a pig a pancake. . ." James started, helpfully.

Harry found the page and continued, ". . . She'll want some syrup to go with it."

The literary group on the couch had just finished their second choice, If You Give a Moose a Muffin, when Hermione stepped into the living room.

"God bless Laura Numeroff and Felicia Bond. Rose can't get enough of their books."

"Imagine that!"

"Prat! Who's hungry?"

"Me, me, me!" the littlest Potters and Weasley cried.

"Kitchen!"

The sound of thundering footsteps running into the kitchen was followed by a pregnant pause.

"I guess we need to supervise, huh?"

Hermione nodded.

"I'm so sorry, Hermione." Harry started.

"No, I understand now, you did what you had to do. You had to hold it together for the boys, and you had to investigate wha, what _happened_."

Harry moved toward her, but she stopped him with an upraised hand.

"And I know you forced your emotions into a tiny little box and threw away the key. . . but, damnit Harry, James and Albus need you, and Rose and I. . ."

"I'm not going to hide behind my occlumency anymore; I'll deal however else I can."

She nodded and flew into his arms.

"Oh God I missed you Harry, I needed you and you weren't there!"

"I promise, Hermione, I will always be here for you, always!"

"Daddy, can I have beans on toast?"

"Bean toe, beeeen toe!"

"Sure, James. Sounds good to me too!"

"I'll need to start some macaroni for Rose, she hates beans." Hermione groused.

"Already got it Ma'am" croaked Kreature from the kitchen, "Miss Rose is already telling Kreature."

"Thank you Kreature, you are a good house-elf."

"Thank you ma'am."

"I'm so glad you're over spew." Harry chided.

"Oh please, I was so young, and as usual, I didn't have all the facts."

"Let's have a bite, shall we?"

Hermione and Rose slept in the guest room; Harry put the boys down and crawled into the queen sized bed alone for the first time since their wedding night. He never let it be known that he hadn't slept since his wife's death. Beyond exhausted he fell into a deep, troubled sleep.

The next day was the double funeral service for the youngest Weasley siblings. Mourners and well wishers passed through the Burrows all day. Harry accepted condolences and listened to people he didn't know talk about his wife and best friend for hours without end.

He gave a short, heartfelt thank-you. To Molly and Arthur, for being the parents he'd not had growing up. And to Ron for always standing with him when things went pear-shaped, and to Ginny, for teaching him that it was okay to love unconditionally, more than okay, it was necessary. Like breathing.

Ron's wish was to be buried at the Hoops on Hogwarts Quidditch pitch. That way there would always be a Weasley defending the goals. His body was reduced to ashes placed in an urn and given to the Headmistress. Minerva McGonagall buried the urn at the southern goal, the one nearest Gryffindor, Ron's final resting place.

Ginny was placed in the Potter Family Vault, next to a bier that would one day hold her beloved husband.

An exhausted Harry and Hermione returned to Godric's Hollow that afternoon.

"Want to stay here tonight?"

Hermione nodded.

"What is it, Hermione?"

"All those people thinking that Ron was some kind of monster. They never saw him with Rosie, or working with the kids on the pitch or listened to him wax rhapsodically about Rose and me," she smirked as she added, "and the junior Quidditch leagues."

"I'll get to the bottom of this, I swear!"

"I'll be ready tomorrow."

)O(

"Mrs. Granger-Weasley, this is a potion to relax you a bit. I am required by law to tell you that it's effects are somewhat like veritaserum in that your memories will not be clouded by, ah, personal bias."

"I understand, thank you." She said and downed the potion.

"Pomegranate juice?" she asked, looking at Harry.

"I know you like it, so I had the department order it in."

She smiled, "thanks," and then leaned her head back, "it's all coming back to me now, oh . . . God, Ron?"

Hermione went quiet as the DMLE medi-witch touched her temple with the tip of her white wand and drew out the memory closest to the surface.

The witch nodded satisfactorily at the shimmering, wispy cloud, "Oh yes, this is a complete memory, no fragmentation at all. Tell me, dear, do you have total recall, what muggles call a photographic memory?"

Hermione nodded, her face contorting in fear.

The medi-witch placed a cool hand on Hermione's forehead and said, "You're here, in this room with your friend Harry, you're not in that other place. It's just a memory, someone else's memory, like a play on a stage, all right?"

Hermione nodded but looked frightened none the less.

"Madame," Harry interrupted, pointing at the memory still clinging to the medical wand.

The matron nodded and placed the wisp in the large stone basin.

"Please note that Auror Lef' tenant Potter will view this memory as will Probationary Auror Stebbins and Department of Magical Law Enforcement Medical Officer Minnich."

The verbatim quill scratched furiously on the legal scroll.

Harry pointed to the basin.

"Shall we?"

His fellow officers nodded then bent over the penseive.

They fell into Ron and Hermione's London flat. Hermione was sitting on the couch before the fire reading aloud to her tiny ginger-haired daughter. Occasionally the child would point to a picture and Hermione would say, "mouse" or "cookie" or what ever the inquisitive child pointed to.

She looked up at the clock on the mantelpiece and frowned, it read eight-fifty.

"Tripped over someone at the Leaky Cauldron again, have we?"

The sound of jingling keys at the door brought her to her feet.

"Let's just put you in with your Hunny Bunny, shall we?"

She jumped a little at the sound of the door slamming open just as she put Rose in her bed with her favorite stuffed toy, a tan and white furry long-eared rabbit with an enchantment that made it purr contentedly. Rose curled around her "Bunny" as Hermione cast a silencing charm around the room.

She closed the door gently then turned to greet her husband.

Hermione was greeted in turn by a right cross. Dazed and horrified the witch endured a battering that would have left any man an incoherent mass on the floor. But she stood, arms raised and crossed as blows hammered on her, trying to understand, trying to see the reason or logic for her pain.

Her husband was livid, spitting curses and screaming incoherently. Then the silence, even worse than the cursing as he stalked her, spun her around and forced her to bend over the kitchen counter. Ron shredded her skirt and knickers with ill aimed cutting curses that left shallow slashes over her legs and bum. She didn't dare move; she knew he was going to kill her.

He took her from behind – roughly. He summoned a small crock that held butter and used it to coat her back passage. He loosened her sphincter with his thumb before forcing his engorged member into that hitherto unused orifice.

Hermione screamed in shame and pain and bewilderment.

There were knives on the counter, just out of her reach. She stretched out her hand only to have it painfully twisted around behind her back. She felt Ron freeze and heard him grunt and go limp.

Hermione spun quickly and ran to the living room, grabbed the floo powder and, throwing the whole container into the fireplace screamed "Godric's Hollow!"

She'd just gotten her face into the fireplace when she felt Ron's large hands in her hair dragging her back and out. She barely managed to croak out "Help!"

Hermione was being dragged by her hair in the direction of her daughter's room.

"No!" she shrieked, and began to fight in earnest. Ron threw her down and kicked her, his foot landing painfully on her shoulder blade.

His wand was out and pointed at her as she lay on the floor in a fetal ball.

The fireplace glowed green and Ginny came flying through. She rolled as she hit the ground and came up with her wand out and pointing at her brother. When she saw who it was she dropped her wand just in time to hear Ron scream "Reducto!"

The blasting hex hit her at close range, spinning her around so that she landed on Hermione. With her last agonized breath she cried, "Harry. . ."

Darkness fell and the last thing Hermione heard was her husband's voice screaming "Piss day!"

Then silence.

)O(

Harry stepped back from the memory, shaken. He'd seen enough, more than enough. He knew Ron better than anyone and he knew that the man who did this to Hermione wasn't him. This was no imperious curse, it wasn't polyjuice, it was possession. He was going to find the witch or wizard responsible for this.

There would be no trial.

There'd be nothing left of them to try.


	4. Chapter 4: Remodeling

Harry took Hermione to Godrick's Hollow that night

Chapter 4 - Remodeling

Harry took Hermione to Godrick's Hollow that night. The exhausted mother slept in the guest room with Rose. Harry watched Albus Severus sleep until his youngest son woke crying for his mummy.

"May I?" Hermione asked. She stood in the doorway, sleep tussled.

Harry nodded. She knelt and the littlest Potter toddled into her open arms. As soon as Harry's head hit the pillow Albus cried "Daddy!"

It took the better part of an hour to calm the child, and then Rose, who was upset because her cousin was distressed. Two exhausted parents fell into the master bedrooms large bed with Rose and Albus in the middle framed by Harry and Hermione on either side.

Child psychologists will tell you that babies between the ages of one-and-a-half and three should not be allowed to sleep in their parent's beds. What the hell do they know? Everyone slept contented for the first time in days. Harry couldn't move come morning, his three ("Most the way to four") year old son was a dead weight against his back, the Weasley-Potter cousins were snuggled in the center, and Hermione looked so peaceful lying there Harry hated to rouse her.

"G'mornin love."

The bushy haired brunette half opened her eyes and saw Harry's green eyes.

Her own brown eyes snapped open and for a moment she looked ready to fight or flee. Then she remembered the children needing them and that their solution seemed like a good idea at the time.

'Oh well,' she thought to herself, 'the worst that can happen is, in my old age, I'll be able to brag that I'd slept with Harry Potter.'

What she said aloud was, "I'll have first shot at the loo."

Inwardly Harry groaned until she said, "I'll only be a moment, then I'll take the little ones down for brekkers."

Rose and James perked up at the word "brekkers."

By the time Harry entered the kitchen, dressed and ready for work, all three kids had been fed and washed and his own English breakfast was laid out with a copy of the Daily prophet.

Of course Hermione was eating his breakfast and reading his paper.

"Um, Kreacher, could you boil an egg for me please?"

Hermione looked up and gave him an embarrassed shrug.

"Couldn't help myself, it looks and smells so wonderful."

"Master Harry's breakfast is ready sir, ma'am." Kreacher's gravelly voice announced. He placed a tray in the kitchen nook with scrambled eggs, toast and coffee.

"Thanks Kreacher, I don't know how I'd manage without you."

The old house elf blushed at the praise and herded the children off to the nursery.

"He really is a jewel." Hermione said, nodding in the direction of the elf's retreating back.

"He's one of a kind, that's for sure."

Her smile faded, "I don't want to give up our flat in London. It's so close to my office and Rose is getting on so well with the other children in the neighborhood."

"Don't give it up, then. We'll just be a floo call away in any case, and Kreacher loves looking after Rose and the boys."

She took a deep breath, "I suppose its time to get back to work." Hermione was deputy head of the Muggle Liaison office.

"You've trained your staff well. If there had been an actual emergency, someone would have called by now."

Changing the subject she abruptly asked, "Harry, would you come to our flat and help me go through, um, some things?"

He knew she meant for him to help her go through her late husbands stuff and determine what to keep.

"Of course. When?"

"After you get off work today. I'll get started sorting through it this morning."

"Are you sure you're up to it?"

"I'll be fine."

Harry pulled her into a hug and kissed the top of her head, which, he noted, was a bit higher than Ginny's had been.

"See you this evening then."

)O(

Harry sat in the same room as before, the pensive swirling with the memories of the assualt. He looked like he'd been put through a wringer.

All morning he'd reviewed and focused and refined the image, concentrating on Ron's face, on what he had said much more than the act itself. Not for the first time Harry wondered if it was a good sign that he could detach himself from his emotions in order to compartmentalize the crime scene.

He knew he didn't want to remember his best friend this way, his face a mask of scorn and fury, his eyes red rimmed with, with. . .

He went back into the pensive. Muting Hermione's screams he concentrated on Ron's eyes. At first he'd thought Ron had been drinking, but very little alcohol, magical or mundane, had been detected in his body.

There!

That red glint, like a torus around the iris – it flashed into and out of existence every few seconds. He held onto the memory to make his own penseive recording then headed for the department of mysteries.

)O(

Hermione stepped gracefully out of the fireplace in Kensington, looked around and shuddered. She didn't want to give up the flat, but it held horrible memories for her. She'd wanted to remodel the old Victorian for years.

Her face took on that look of grim determination as she nodded to herself and thought – 'that's it. I'll gut this place and we'll rebuild it from the inside out.'

First things first, purge the place of its former occupant. She went into their room, opened the closet and began to pull large handfuls of clothing on hangers, placing them in the middle of the room. There was quite a lot of it; Ronald never threw anything away. His pack-rat ways were, no doubt, a carry-over from having endured seventeen years of hand-me-downs. Some of the clothing, quidditch related clothes and his old pair of keeper's gloves (a Christmas gift from Harry) could go to the amateur quidditch leagues that Ron had coached. His dress robes would look fine on James or Albus or Teddy some day. Then she remembered and patted her tummy, "Would you like to wear your daddy's robes?"

She snorted, thinking of all the wonderful things she had to look forward to.

Morning sickness.

Mercurial mood swings.

Cravings.

Not seeing her own feet for three months.

She'd made three neat piles, save, donate to the consignment shop, and vaporize.

Everything Chudley Cannon orange was in the vaporize pile.

Her fireplace glowed green and Harry's head appeared.

"Hermione?" he called to the room.

"Come on through, Harry."

He stepped in and looked at the three piles.

"Let me guess," he pointed to the orange pile, "bonfire?"

She grinned, sheepishly, and nodded.

"Keep?" he asked indicating the pile of books and clothing in charmed garment bags.

"Yes."

"And. . .hmmmm, donate?"

"Spot on, Mr. Potter. Not that I don't appreciate seeing you in the middle of the day, but why are you here?"

"I needed to get away from the office for a bit and I noticed I'm famished, would you like a bite?"

She looked pensive, "Yes, but one condition."

"Anything."

"I want Chinese."

"Um, okay. What brought this on. . ." in a moment of pure clarity Harry slapped the middle of his forehead with the palm of his hand. Of course she was having cravings, she was two months pregnant.

"I know just the place."

"Nice recovery Mr. Potter."

She took his arm to side-along with him to the Wok-n-Roll near them that catered to muggle as well as magical clientele.

Neither saw or otherwise sensed the long red tendrils retracting themselves into the deepest shadows of the master bedroom's closet.

)O(

When Harry returned to work he saw a small folded airplane on his desk glowing fuchsia. He frowned.

"Just arrived for you, sir, I was just about to call when I heard you apparate in."

Harry just nodded; his erk had just saved himself a good brow beating. He opened the message and read it. His suspicions were confirmed – Ron had been possessed. He'd probably been under someone's thrall for years - which explained much.

As for the who?

One clue.

Ron had shouted "Piss day!" right after blasting his sister. Harry hadn't paid that much attention to it but one of the unspeakables was a polyglot.

"Piss day" didn't mean anything really, unless you were from central Europe. Then it was "pizdae" a vulgar thing to call a woman.

In Bulgarian.

"Stebbens!"

"Sir!"

"Ask Mrs. Granger-Weasley if she'll watch the boys for a couple of days. I'll be out of town. Don't tell her where."

"I don't _know_ where you're going, sir."

Harry checked his wand holster, as well as his backup piece, then said, "Bulgaria."


	5. Chapter 5: Bulgarian Connection

Chapter 5 –

Chapter 5 – The Bulgarian Connection

Harry walked down the narrow street in the center of Sofia's magical district. He didn't look like a tourist; he looked like a hunter, noticing everything and everyone around him. He paid little attention to the three wizards who followed him. Harry knew they thought they were being clandestine. Harry saw the street number he needed and turned down an even narrower pedestrian walkway. The people around him seemed to evaporate as the largest of the three men, wearing the uniform of the Mage Polizi, chuckled evilly.

"We have a tourist, hoping for a taste of Old Bulgaria."

Harry sighed and turned slowly to face this latest nuisance.

"Nice boots. Dragon hide I think." The smallest of the three sneered, "I'm sure fine leather will look better on me."

"Basilisk," Harry corrected, "and frankly, it looked better on the snake."

The trio was surprised to hear the tourist speak perfect Bulgarian.

"Who are you," barked the policeman, "show me your identification."

"I'll show you mine if you'll show me yours." Harry answered evenly.

All three thugs drew their wands, but Harry already had his out, as well as the single action revolver that had been concealed by his long black trench coat. He'd cocked the hammer as he drew the antique weapon. The muzzle of the Colt aimed unwaveringly at the forehead of the large policeman.

"I've learned that silver bullets are good for werewolves and wizards who let their dragon-sized mouths over ride their snorkak arses."

"Mister Potter, I presume." A reedy voice sounded from his left. The inquiry was in English.

Harry didn't turn his head, "yes."

The man glared at the thugs in the alleyway and spoke in Bulgarian.

"Oh very good Stefan, you've drawn your wand on the most feared auror in Europe, please, don't let me stop you. This will be entertaining."

"What are you saying Dimitri?" the large man asked.

"You and your moronic friends are facing Harry Potter."

All the blood drained from the men's faces and three wands clattered to the ground simultaneously.

Dimitri chuckled, "Remember the old Bulgarian saying, Stefan. Quote, "Pissing in your own boots will only warm your feet for a little while, unquote."

Harry holstered the Colt, summoned the three fallen wands and used deft wand movements to tie the hovering sticks together with a thin wire. Then he held the small bundle of wands in front of his would-be attackers.

"Take them." he ordered.

Each man touched his own wand and Harry let go, whispering, "_Portus_."

A rush of wind, a cyclonic blaze of color and the three were gone.

"Where'd you send them?"

"Romania."

"Why Romania?"

"The little guy likes my boots, I sent him to the dragon preserve there."

"Inside or outside the dragon enclosure?"

Harry grinned, "Does it matter?"

The old man laughed. Harry finally got a good look at his maybe ally. Dimitri was tall and thin, very old, and clean shaven. He looked like Dumbledore would have if he'd shaved.

"Dimitri Tschostokovic at your service, Mister Potter."

Harry nodded, "you are my go-between for Victor?"

"Indeed, I handle his affairs. I would be, in your language, a sort of secretary/solicitor, his arranger, if you will."

The men walked and exchanged pleasantries. Harry bought two Turkish coffees and grimaced as he sipped the sludge, while Dimitri smacked his lips in appreciation. After a few blocks they stood before a single tall building, its ground floor crammed with shops, the upper floors looked like luxury apartments.

"Victor lives here?"

"Yes, on the top floor. Please, Mister Potter, he is expecting us."

"I'm just Harry, Mister Tschostokovic."

"Only if you call me Dimitri."

"Fair enough."

The old retainer pressed his hand on a simple wooden door, which opened to reveal a luxuriously appointed apartment with a commanding view of Sofia.

Harry turned around, he was still standing on street level, but the view through the open door was from several stories up.

He said, not for the first time, "I love magic."

"Ladies and gentlemen, I give you the Nineteen Ninety Four Tri-wizard Champion!" Krum announced to no one in particular as Harry entered the room. The man was still very fit, bulkier than Harry remembered, but there wasn't an ounce of fat on him.

The two men embraced each other as old friends.

"Has it really been ten years?"

"Oh yes."

"You have grown much, my friend."

"And you are as fit as ever, Victor."

Krum put a gentle hand on Harry's shoulder.

"I was shocked and saddened by the news, I am very sorry for your loss."

Harry expected that, and he was moved by the heart-felt sincerity in the Bulgarian keeper's voice.

"Thank you, Victor. It means a lot to me."

"How is Hermione taking it?"

This made Harry grin, "You got her name right."

Victor looked sheepish, "I always knew how to say it. But English girls really go for an exotic accent."

"She's better," Harry allowed, "she's watching over my two boys while I'm here."

"You have sons?" Krum looked shocked.

"Yeah, James is three and Albus is almost two."

"And Hermione?"

"One daughter, Rose, and one on the way."

Victor sat down and motioned for Harry and Dimitri to take their seats as well.

"I am getting too old. I haven't yet "settled down" as you English say. But I would like a family of my own someday. Maybe with the right girl."

Harry hated himself for what he was about to do.

"You could call Hermione, she'd love to hear from you." Harry cast a powerful, passive legilimency spell and began to read Victor.

"I will call her, but not yet. It is still too new, too painful." He looked deep into Harry's eyes and said, "Besides, I know you will take care of her, you always have and always will."

Harry detected a hint of jealousy there, but he could sense that it had less to do with his relationship with Hermione and more because Harry had a relatively happy life surrounded by true friends.

"So you'd rather not try to be the next man in Hermione's life?"

Krum shrugged, "Once, maybe, but to her I'll always just be that big, sweet quidditch player who gave her her first real kiss – she needs her friends and family around now.

Victor's smile lessened, "Now if _you'll_ stop with the legilimancy and just tell me how I can help, and what brings you to Bulgaria?"

Harry looked abashed. "I apologize; I find it helps cut through the crap."

Victor just waited patiently for Harry to go on.

"Someone possessed Ron, apparently had been for years. I won't go into the gory details, but let's just say Hermione's had a rough go of it for the past few years."

"She was abused?"

"In the worst way, Victor."

The quidditch star's fists cracked, "do we know who?"

"Someone from Eastern Europe, his language was laced with Bulgarian invectives."

Some of the warmth left the room.

"That is why you came to me; I'm the only Bulgarian that Hermione knows so I'm a suspect." It wasn't a question.

"Believe me, Victor, unless or until I find who is responsible for this, everyone is a suspect. Even me."

"So what now?"

"Can you tell me anything that might help my investigation?"

"I can give you all my memories of the times I visited England and you may read the letters I received from Hermione."

"There must be a connection between Bulgaria and London, I'm just not seeing it." Harry groused.

"You do know Karkaroff's family had many ties to the British ministry?"

"No."

"Something Karkaroff's father did, very hush, hush."

Harry pulled small mirror from his pocket and called "Stebbins!"

The young auror's face appeared in the mirror. "Sir?"

"Get me anything you can on the Karkaroff family's dealings with the minister of magic. Find the pattern, Upton, connect the dots!"

"Right away, sir!"

Harry put the mirror away and turned to Krum.

"Thank you, do you know if anyone from Durmstrang fixed on Hermione?"

"You mean, besides myself?" Krum asked with a pained smile.

"I need a break here, Victor. If someone had asked me if I thought you had an unhealthy fixation on a girl you met when you were eighteen after ten years I would have told them to go home and sober up."

"So," Victor pressed, "I'm no longer suspected?"

"Victor, believe me, as far as I'm concerned you never were."

The Bulgarian smiled at that.

"Stay for dinner?"

"I'd love to, but I have to get home to my boys, I wouldn't mind a drink if that wouldn't be abusing your hospitality."

"Not at all, have you ever had rakki?"

"What is that?"

"Think of it as Mesopotamian moonshine."

"Sounds good to me."

)O(

"Zdrasti, Hermione!" Harry said just a little too loudly as the portkey left him spinning on Godrick's Hollow's living room rug.

"Daddy!" three tiny voices squealed as James and Albus and Rose dog-piled him.

He kissed all three and looked at Hermione with pleading eyes, "I need the cure," adding a whine at the last, "pleeease?"

Hermione shook her head and went to the liquor cabinet to retrieve Ogden's second-best selling concoction – the sobriety potion and hangover cure. She handed a one dose vial to Harry and stepped back, smirking.

"Nazdrave!" he said and downed the contents of the vial.

He hugged all three kids then jumped up and ran to the loo.

Purged and showered he returned to the living room after fifteen minutes.

"Merciful Goddess I hate taking that stuff."

"Harry, why were we speaking Bulgarian just then?"

"Oh, I needed to find something in Sofia and I dropped in on your old boyfriend."

"Victor was never my boyfriend, never mind what _some_ people thought, he was a good friend and a pen pal and. . ."

"And your first kiss?"

"Harry! I was fifteen, going on sixteen and I'd never been out with _anyone_. Besides, he was so sweet and vulnerable and. . ."

"Looked good on a broom?"

She smirked at that, "well, there was that."

"Um, not that I mind, mind you, but why is Rose calling me "Daddy," just now?"

"Oh, something I overheard in the nursery. Rose was sad because she's lost her daddy and the boys said that they would share you with them and then Rose said that the boys could call me Mummy and. . ."

And it had seemed so sweet at the time, but somehow explaining it to Harry drove home the point that they were both widowed. They both felt like they'd lost half their souls and the better halves at that. They fell into each other's arms, grieving anew.

Hermione pulled away, "No stiff upper lips here, eh Potter?"

"Sod that, Granger, it's still too raw, and now I can't even hide behind my walls."

"Get a grip," she said, sniffling, "no one's going to shag you if you cry all the time!"

The crudity of her comment, the absolute un-Hermione-ness of it, left Harry gobsmacked.

Which had been her intention, after all.

"Let's have supper," Harry finally said, "I'm sure there's a can of beans around here somewhere."

"James and Albus got the last can; Rose got her grilled cheese and tomato sandwich. For you and me its hot Sheppard's pie and cold butterbeer."

Harry bucked up at that, his favorite dinner combination, the ultimate in comfort food.

The extended family sat around the kitchen table, content to be in each other's company.

Harry's fireplace glowed green, signaling an incoming floo call.

"Lef' tenant, are you home?"

Harry sighed, "right here Stebbins, what is it."

"I think I found your Bulgarian connection. . ."

"Right!" Harry nearly shouted, not wanting his assistant to say anymore in front of the families. "I'll see you in my office in twenty minutes."

"Aye, sir."

)O(

A very tired Harry leaned back in his office chair. Try as he might he couldn't find any holes in his erk's reasoning, but he still didn't have a solid suspect.

When Harry had flooed into the DMLE office Upton was there with his ledger. One lesson Upton Stebbins had taken to heart was that the blank journals were much better for taking and organizing notes than the handfuls of small scrolls that most aurors kept.

The young auror's enthusiasm was infectious, "I did what you told me to, sir. I wrote everything we knew, and started finding connections, and then I found everything I could on each of the connections. Finally, I connected the dots.

No big picture yet, but interesting points did arise.

Point: Krum and Karkaroff were Bulgarian.

Point: Karkaroff was a co-defendant with Rookwood.

Point: Sasha Karkaroff, Igor's father created the first cognivores.

Point: Rookwood's job was the care and feeding of cognivores.

Harry interrupted, "Stebbins, what is a cognivore?"

"CNS, that's Central Nervous System cores. They look like disembodied brains with ribbon-like tentacles."

Harry rubbed his temples and groaned, "Oh shite!"

)O(

"Zdrasti" Good day and welcome

"Nazdrave" To your health


	6. Chapter 6: Cogs

Chapter 6 –

Chapter 6 – Cogs

Harry stood before a large circular glass tank in the Department of Mysteries. He tried to remember why Ron had thought "Accio Brains" sounded like such a good idea all those years ago when they were fighting for their lives against Voldemort's inner circle.

As he walked around the tank one cognivore seemed to follow his progress – an eerie feeling as the floating brains had no eyes that he could discern. He felt the barest touch of legilimency and slammed his occlumency shields into place so forcefully the intelligence in question visibly flinched.

"The cogs need constant input, Mister Potter, or they begin to atrophy. Anyone who walks into this room provides sight, sound, taste, touch and smell for at least one of the cognivores - sometimes more than one."

Harry shook his head and turned away from the tank. The room was operating-theater clean. The tendrilled brains floated in a saline and nutrient solution not unlike cerebral fluid. The cognivores were in the care of a tall, thin, middle aged researcher named Nicholas Farkas, Nick to his friends.

"Tell me about Karkaroff and the cogs." Harry asked.

"Sasha Karkaroff was commissioned by the Bulgarian Mage Ruling Party to harvest brains from convicted criminals – men and women who had committed capitol crimes. Those marked for death were given the opportunity to live, after a fashion, as disembodied brains. The idea was sound – there is no better storage medium for information than the human brain. The convicts were never told that their own memories would be completely wiped so that the resulting cognivore would become a blank slate, as it were.

"Karkaroff's real accomplishment was his ability to retrieve the information through selective legilimency."

"Whatever happened to Sasha Karkaroff?"

"Are you familiar with the story of Dr. Joseph-Ignance Guillotin?"

"Isn't he the guy who invented the Guillotine?"

"Actually he didn't invent it, but he was instrumental in getting the French to use it in the late Eighteenth Century as a "humane" form of execution."

"Wasn't he executed on the Guillotine himself?"

"No, that's a commonly held belief, though. Therein is the irony."

"How so?" Harry asked.

"Sasha Karkaroff wasn't content to use convicted criminals for his experiments – he branched out.

"He was convicted of illegally "coring" non-criminals, people who were mentally ill or just unlucky enough to cross his path when he needed a new brain."

"The irony is that he was sentenced to "coring" - forced to become one of his own creations."

"Do the brains communicate with one another?" Harry asked.

"After a fashion – when one is used for memory storage a partial replica of that memory is placed in each of the others so that if, God forbid, one cog dies, the data could be retrieved, albeit fragmented, from the other brains. Each cognivore is a "Global Cognitive Server" for all of its fellow cogs."

"Do you communicate with the brains?"

"I'm not sure "communicate" is the right word. These are not people, they're memory banks. One could just as easily say that the pulling of a file from a cabinet is communicating with it."

"How long can a brain remain outside of the tank?"

Nick looked puzzled by the question, "no one really knows. We used to have one cog that would levitate itself out of the tank and float around the room like a helium balloon. Sometime it would do that for hours before returning to the tank."

"What happened to it?"

"It was one of the cogs caught in the crossfire when you and your friends broke in here twelve years ago."

)O(

Eight weeks had passed and Harry was no closer to discovering who had attacked Ron and through him, Hermione. Meanwhile, Rose Minerva and Albus Severus were rapidly approaching their second birthdays, both would be two within a week of each other, and Harry was determined to give them a proper birthday party. With some trepidation he invited his and Hermione's in-laws, Arthur and Molly and all the Weasleys, as well as Hermione's parents, to Godrick's Hollow for the celebration. George was there with Alicia, Percy and Penelope, Bill and Fleur and Victoir. Charlie couldn't make it but he sent along two beautiful stuffed dragons charmed to walk and flap their soft wings and hiccough wisps of fragrant smoke. Rose squealed and dubbed hers "Bunny."

No surprise there, all Rose's stuffed toys were named "Bunny."

Albie happily dragged his "Draggers" by its tail. Draggers didn't mind – he just contentedly blew smoke rings in their wake.

When Arthur and Molly arrived Harry was shocked. He'd seen them aggrieved – they'd lost Fred in the war, after all. But now they looked wretched. All used up.

It was as if the loss of Ginny and Ron had sucked the life out of them.

Molly's patented bone-crushing hugs were a thing of the past and Arthur's handshake was like a wet noodle.

)O(

"Gramama and Grampy Weasley are going to be here soon and I need you to be extra-cheerful around them, okay sweeties?"

"Gramama cries a lot." James observed.

"Gramama's sad sweetheart."

"Cause of Mummy and Unca Ron?"

Hermione nodded. The ache was still there, but it was manageable now.

"Remember now, happy faces everyone!" Hermione reminded them and led them into the big downstairs living room.

"Gramama! Grampy!" all three children raced to their red and silver haired grandparents.

"Here's my Potter-Weasleys and my little Granger-Weasley!" Arthur cried with forced cheerfulness.

Molly looked shocked.

"Ginevra . . . Ronald?"

"No Gramama, Rosie and Albie!" James protested.

The Weasley matriarch fell to her knees and gathered her grandbabies into her arms and laughed and cried and kissed the squirming cousins who hugged her back as hard as they could.

"They're the spitting image of Ron and Ginny at that age." Arthur marveled.

"Maybe we're just being reminded that, no matter what, life goes on?" Harry ventured.

Grampy Weasley smiled - his first genuine smile since his children's funeral.

Harry took all the children on broom rides, Grampa Granger did some amazing parlor tricks – more so because, even though nearly everyone in the room could do actual magic, slight-of-hand was beyond them.

Through it all the littlest grandchildren stayed with Gramama and Grampy.

And a healing light was coaxed to life in the eldest Weasleys by the youngest.

)O(

"Well I'd say the evening was an unqualified success." Harry observed, picking lemon cake crumbs out of Hermione's shoulder length frizz. He'd managed to talk her into staying the night in the room he'd set aside for her and Rose.

"I was really scared when I saw Molly come in – she looked like she'd aged a hundred years in two months."

Harry paused, "has it been two months already?"

Hermione groaned as she bent down to pick up a tiny shoe.

"I'll get that!" Harry offered.

"No, Master Harry," Kreacher interrupted, "I'll be doing the picking up and getting the cleaning done – please take Mistress to bed!"

Harry and Hermione were startled by the house elf's suggestion.

Kreacher looked at the gobsmacked mages and clarified "Mistress will be needing her rest; she's in a family way."

Harry put his hands on Hermione's shoulders and gently guided her to the stairs, "come along, "Mistress," Kreacher's right, you are needing your rest."

"Harry, I'm pregnant, not crippled – I'll manage."

Still Harry walked with her up to the guest room where Rose snored gently in her sleigh bed. He bent down to kiss her cheek and the newly minted two-year-old hummed contentedly snuggling against her stuffed dragon.

Hermione felt a deep affection for Harry at that moment. He turned to say goodnight and was startled by the expression on her face and the thin trickle of blood on her upper lip.

He plucked a tissue from the night stand and dabbed just under her nose.

"Oh," she said with a nervous little laugh, "that's attractive isn't it?"

Harry shrugged.

"Oh come on, Harry! I'm all thick around the middle and my face is blotchy and my baps are, um, well."

"Its okay, Hermione, I've been through this - twice now. And I can tell you from experience you're wearing it well."

She looked at his as if he'd grown another eye in the middle of his forehead.

Harry pulled her into a hug and murmured, "I thought Ginny was most beautiful when she was just a few months along with James and Albie, and I have to tell you, you are too."

"Oh!" she squeaked.

"Oh?" he asked, holding her at arm's length.

"I feel him moving!" She excitedly took Harry's hand and placed it on the bump on her belly. Sure enough there was a slight movement.

"That's brilliant!" he said and picked her up, swung her around and kissed her.

Then stopped, shocked at his reaction to his best friend.

"Ah, um, Hermione, I'm uh. . ."

"It's okay Harry," she said, kissing him on the cheek, "we just got caught up in the moment. Really, it's alright."

"Well, um, I'll just be next door, in my room I mean, um, goodnight . . . Hermione."

"Goodnight Harry."

"Goodnight Daddy," mumbled Rose; her voice small.

Harry smiled, "G'night sweetheart."

)O(

In Kensington, Paul Kemp was happy. He'd gotten the promotion and had asked Lisa to marry him – and this time she hadn't said no. He was wearing her down. In the distance a clock struck one. That had been some celebration. He loved his mates, he loved Lisa - he loved his life.

The early morning was cool and damp – the ubiquitous London fog softened lights and obscured details.

As Paul turned to enter his own walkway he passed under a large oak, its leaves heavy with moisture. Something disturbed a branch spilling cold water down the back of his neck. He yelped and jumped and didn't even feel the thin red ribbons touch his face and neck.

Paul froze; his expression blank. After a time he grinned evilly.

He looked at the coach lamps, obscured by fog, at the flat across the street from his and, in a voice not entirely his own, said one word, a name.

"Granger!"

)O(

For those of you not familiar with the joys of pregnancy, spontaneous nosebleeds are common. I recommend a humidifier for the room and a swab of Vaseline in each nostril before going to bed.

There are some more interesting side-effects that will be part of the story later. . .

Did anyone catch the reference to the Global Catalog Server? Think of the cognivores as a LAN with some built in redundancy. Is there an MCSE in the house?


	7. Chapter 7: One Island to Another

Chapter 7 –

Chapter 7 – One Island to Another

Paul Kemp woke up in a strange house. He was seated at someone else's kitchen table, face down on the Formica. That was disturbing. What was _really_ disturbing was the fact that he didn't know where he was or how he'd gotten there - or why he was griping the handle of a large carving knife.

Paul was a neat freak; apparently whoever lived here was too. He placed the great knife in its proper place on the above-counter rack. Cautiously, quietly moving to the kitchen door he exited through a neat little shared garden area. The garden gate led to a street that ran parallel to his own.

He nervously walked around the block to his flat and realized that he'd entered the Weasley's address, his neighbors across the street. Paul had never been in their home before this morning but they were friendly enough, talking when they met on the street. "Nodding acquaintances" his mum had called them.

Paul entered his own front door and breathed a heavy sigh.

"Just how much did I drink last night?" he mused.

"Oh well, no harm, no foul. I wasn't discovered in a strange house and I had all my clothes on."

He felt suddenly cold and looked around. "Bit o' the hair of the dog I think."

Yes, a morning bracer was definitely in order. He poured a small whiskey, looked at the mostly empty glass, shrugged and filled the glass half full.

"Hey, it has to be after five somewhere, right?" he announced to the empty room with a smirk and threw back the glass.

The mantle clock reminded him that he had just over an hour to get ready for work. A quick shower was in order, he felt a bit "whiffy."

The warm water stung his neck and back, so much so that when he exited the small shower stall he checked his reflection in the mirror. Along the side of his neck and back he could see small welts, like angry red little whip marks.

"What the bloody hell are those?"

He promised himself that he'd see a doctor if the welts didn't go down by the end of the day.

Paul dressed quickly, foregoing the tie, thank you, and quick walked to the underground.

)O(

Hermione woke up feeling better than she had for the past several weeks. Well, the parts she could remember, that is. Coffee and bacon drew her out of bed and down to the kitchen. She'd wished she had a wizarding camera to capture the scene in the kitchen.

Harry stood in his house robe flipping home fries in a small omelet pan as bacon sizzled in another pan and a small mountain of scrambled eggs kept warm in yet another.

Kreacher stood by with forced patience as the master of the house did his own cooking. His tiny arms folded around a dish towel, his bare foot tapping on the floor tile. The little old elf's face was a study in tolerance under extreme duress.

He practically lit up when he spotted Hermione in the doorway.

"Would the mistress like tea or coffee this morning?" He asked with relieved dignity.

"Um, either, Kreacher. But I can't have caffeine, y'know."

"I remember from two times before, mistress, I have Earl Grey sans caffeine?"

"That's perfect, thank you, Kreacher!"

"Good morning, sunshine!" Harry said, placing a heaping breakfast plate on the table.

"This smells _so_ good!"

"It's my favorite meal to cook, breakfast. Come by anytime, I'm always open."

"It's the one meal Rose isn't fussy about. Sometimes I'll make breakfast for tea or dinner just to get her to eat something."

"I guess she didn't inherit her father's appetite?"

"Nope, she gets it all from me, except of course, the Weasley Hair."

Harry chuckled, "I pity poor Albie. He's got Ginny's red hair and my unruly locks. The only way to get it to behave is to have it too long or too short."

"I like your hair long."

"Yeah, well, maybe when I'm not in the field anymore, I'll grow it out."

"You're giving up field work?"

"Yeah, after this one case, y'know?"

She nodded, and he continued.

"I'm going to teach at the academy - maybe moonlight at Hogwarts as a flying instructor."

Hermione beamed "Oh that would be brilliant," then her face fell, "but I thought you loved field work."

"I used to." He admitted.

Harry sat down heavily. "I used to love going after the bad guys and bringing them in, but I've seen so much – I don't know - ugliness, cruelty, brutality. I've seen things and I've had to do things that made me sick. I did what I had to do because it had to be done, but I always knew Ginny would be home, minding the boys, y'know?"

"Now it's just Jamie and Albie and me."

Hermione put a reassuring hand on his forearm. "You know I'll take care of the boys, right? I have to; I'm their "Mummy" now."

"Hermione?"

"Yes?"

"Can you take some time off work - maybe a week?"

"Well, I'm taking maternity leave when the littlest Weasley makes her debut."

She thought she saw a fleeting look of desolation on Harry's face just before he said, "No worries, just an idea."

"Come to think on it, I haven't taken a vacation since Rose was born, and I've been recently reminded that it's been two years!"

The look on Harry's face made it okay that there would be a literal mountain of paperwork waiting for her when she returned.

"Where are we going?"

"Oahu."

"Seriously?"

Harry smiled and nodded.

"How long before you can be packed?"

She looked thoughtful.

Harry gave her a mock exasperated sigh, "Hermione, we're card-carrying mages, all we need is a wand and a toothbrush!"

She smirked, fine for you, Harry, do you want to travel across ten time zones with three children and a pregnant woman with nothing but a "wand and a toothbrush?"

"Right after breakfast I'll get the boys packed and you get Rose's stuff and we'll meet at Heathrow in say, two hours?"

"It's a date, Mister Potter!"

)O(

Two hours later Hermione arrived at Heathrow's magical departure point carrying a duffle over her shoulder and dragging a wheeled case that looked to be the size of a steamer trunk. Rose perched atop the wheeled luggage like a miniature coachman."

Harry stood holding James and Albus by the hand.

"Where's your luggage?" Hermione asked.

The three Potters grinned and each pulled a toothbrush from their shirt pockets.

Hermione shook her head and exhaled exasperatedly. "Honestly!"

Harry grabbed up his squealing niece and said "Actually I've already sent our luggage through; it's waiting for us at the Hilton."

He took the duffle from Hermione's shoulder and pulled the Brobdingnagian suitcase to the luggage counter.

"Two to follow mine, please."

"Right you are, sir!" chirped the cute little ticket clerk. "You'll be staying at the Hawaiian Village, then?"

"Oh yes, looking forward to it!"

"I'll be there when my shift is over. . ." the girl said somewhat hopefully.

Hermione, who had been tying her daughter's trainers stood and was puzzled as Harry drew her into a close embrace, "I'm really flattered, love, but y'see, this is our second honeymoon before sprog number four so. . ."

The girl at the counter had the good graces to blush but soldiered on, "do enjoy your stay, Mr. Potter, Mrs. Potter."

Hermione's eyebrows shot up to her hairline, but then she wrapped her arms around Harry's middle and said in a low, sultry voice, "oh, he will. . ."

"Tickets, please!" came the voice of the uniformed man at the gate.

"Come along Granger-Potter-Weasleys!" Harry said, jovially.

And the "family" of five passed through the gate –

- and stepped into the lobby of the Hawaiian Village Hilton in Waikiki.

Harry beamed. "I love Gateway travel, no "hook behind the navel," no "squeeze me through a great rubber tube." Just step through to your destination."

The lobby was a spacious outdoor breezeway with a long curved desk.

"May I help your sir?"

"Potter Family, Rainbow Tower, thirteenth floor, ocean view?"

The clerk looked confused, but gamely smiled on, "um, sir, we don't have a thirteenth floor . . ."

"I'll take this one Lucas!" a well tanned girl with long black hair and amber eyes smiled at the British family.

Harry noticed the waxing-full-waning moon symbol on her name tag indicating that she catered to magical clientele. He also noticed her name was Amber.

"Mahalo nui loa na ho'olaule'a me la kaua! Welcome and thank you for celebrating your honeymoon with us!"

Hermione looked at Harry who was chuckling, "Mahalo, but it's not really our honeymoon."

"A'ole pilikia**, **no problem – it's just that Liz, the ticket agent, said that this was your second honeymoon."

This time both Harry and Hermione had the good graces to blush, "Well . . ." Harry started to clarify.

"It's fine, can we see the rooms?"

"Right away, just take the small elevator in the Rainbow Tower on the East side, that's the side facing the ocean. Your luggage is already up there, aloha!"

"Mahalo, Amber."

"A'ole pilikia!"

As the two adults and three children walked toward the Rainbow Tower Hermione asked "What was all that about, Harry?"

Harry smiled, "Ginny and I planned this trip months ago, I was going to cancel it but then I thought, no, it'd be good for the boys. It's a suite of rooms, two bedrooms and a common kitchen and living area. The boys were going to be in one room while Ginny and I took the other. We can have a boy's room and a girl's room this way."

They boarded the elevator and pushed the buttons for floors twelve and fourteen simultaneously. Hermione stood up on her toes and kissed Harry's cheek, "I think it's brilliant, thank you for including us."

"Just one small problem." Harry said, frowning.

"What's that?"

"Well, we left London at ten AM, and here in Honolulu it's just midnight."

Hermione smirked, "That's why it was clever of you to bring me along Mister Potter!"

The elevator stopped between floors twelve and fourteen and the blended family stepped out.

"Here we are - room 1314." Opening the door Harry announced "Boy's dorm to the left, girl's to the right!"

"Just like Hogwarts." Hermione mused.

"Boys, meet Rose and me in the common room in five minutes, be sure to have your jammies on!"

All three children pouted at that, "But we just got here!" Jamie winged.

But all five were in the "common room" at the appointed time to find three "sippy" cups and two cocktail glasses on the coffee table.

Hermione raised her glass and said, "Cheers!"

"Cheers!"

They all drank their potions, smacking their lips at the wonderful flavors.

"Cherry!"

"Pumpkin Juice!"

"Strawberry!"

"Rum punch, good one Hermione!"

"Mine's Pina Colada. All right now, everyone to bed, you'll fall over in five minutes no matter where you are, and then we get to start today all over again, only we'll be fresh and recharged! Let's go, come on!"

There was a wild scramble as the boys scampered into one of the twin beds in their room and Rose jumped into the queen sized in the girl's room.

Hermione sat on the couch and patted the cushion next to her. Harry sat.

"How long do we really have?" he asked.

"Ten or fifteen minutes, I'd guess. I wanted to thank you for inviting us. We all need a change of scenery right now and this is, well, perfect. Although, I may have messed it up for you."

"How's that?"

"I saw the way that little tart at the ticket counter looked at you; you could have had a petite blonde on this couch if I hadn't bollixed it up for you."

"I'm exactly where I want to be Missus Granger-Weasley, and I'm with the girl . . . of . . . my . . ."

Harry fell back on the cushions and Hermione thought for just a moment "Maybe I didn't time the potion all . . . that . . . well . . ."

Hermione collapsed onto Harry, who instinctively stretched out on the cushions, pulling the unresisting woman on top of him. She snuggled into his chest, purred like a contented cat and slept the sleep of the just.

Harry woke feeling fresh and rested and felt a nice warm body on his and a very firm buttock in his hand.

Hermione smirked and said, "Nice grip there, Harry."

Ten-thousand volts couldn't have moved his hand away any quicker.

"Hermione! I'm so sor . . ."

She smiled and placed a finger in his lips, "It's okay - I was just a little heavy handed with the essence of asphodel. We well and truly konked out, didn't we?"

Harry chuckled, "That we did. Um, Hermione?"

"Yes?"

"Could you let me up please? I need to . . ." he looked in the direction of the loo.

"And they say pregnant women have small bladders!"

"Well, it's been a while, since, y'know."

"You should have thought of that before we left!"

"I know, I know, um, please?"

She groaned and got up; loathe to leave the warmth and comfort and security of Harry.

"Oh!" she said, then ran to the bathroom and slammed the door.

"Hermione!"

"Sorry!" she said through the closed door. What followed was the sound of a strong stream in the toilet bowl.

After two or three agonizing minutes she came out and sing-songed "All yours!"

"Thank you!" he groaned – and practically ran into the W.C. to alleviate his hydrostatic pressure.

The three potty-trained Potter-Granger-Weasley kids were in and out in short order.

When Rose finished she toddled into the room and demanded "Brekkers!"

"Boys, shirts, shorts and trainers!"

"Yay!" the Potter boys enthused and started pulling at their PJs.

"Let's get dressed, shall we, Rose?"

"Kay."

Harry and the boys were all on the couch waiting for the girls.

"Dad, why's it take so long for girls to get dressed?"

Harry shrugged, "they just want to look good for us."

Jamie nodded, but didn't really understand.

When Hermione and Rose opened the door to their room Harry's jaw dropped.

Mother and daughter were in matching short dresses, deep green with hibiscus flowers. Harry had never seen his best friend look so beautiful. Rose was a tiny copy of her mother. Both wore their hair up with a single orchid behind the right ear. Both looked to Harry for his approval.

He stood and said, "Stand up boys; we always stand when beautiful ladies enter the room."

Jamie looked confused but did as he was told, Albie stood and stared at Rose and said, "Pretty."

Mother and daughter performed a little curtsey and said "thank you, kind sir."

Harry stepped up to Hermione and touched the flower.

"May I?"

Hermione nodded.

He gently pulled the orchid from her right ear and placed it behind her left.

She looked confused.

"Right ear means you're available. Left ear means your heart already belongs to someone."

"I should have known that."

He offered his arm, "shall we?"

Albie held the crook of his elbow to his cousin and said "please?"

Both girls took the proffered arms and headed down to breakfast.

"Albus is going to be a heart-breaker."

"You can already tell?"

"Oh, yes."

)O(

Paul Kemp had had an interesting day. Waking up in someone else's flat for starters. He'd enjoyed a two-martini lunch with a client, then gone straight to his favorite pub after work to "decompress."

A few more drinks and he'd started to notice brunettes in the crowd. Something about them appealed to his libido. He'd managed to chat up one or two before his alcohol intake over-rode his common courtesy, and common sense.

Okay, granted, grabbing the lass's bum as she was dancing with her rugby blindside-flanker boyfriend was not the smartest thing he could have done.

Number Six was not amused.

The good news was that Paul didn't feel the punch.

The bad news was that he would feel it in the morning. The worst news was that he'd wake up in his neighbor's house again.

)O(

Author's note:

Notice any similarities between Ron and Paul? I'm trying to give the bad guy(s) some subtlety in this story.

For those of you not familiar with the ruffian's game - played by ruffians, each position in a rugby union team gets a number. Number one is always the loosehead prop, number two is always the hooker. You know that got a lot of snickers. My boyfriend at USC was a number six, the blindside flanker. He played a total of six games in his college career, managing to break a bone every other game. Last I heard he was selling insurance in Florida. Ah well.


	8. Chapter 8: Boundaries

Chapter 8 –

Chapter 8 – Boundaries

Paul sat in the doctor's office fidgeting. He had the haunted look of someone who had gone too long without sleep.

"Four days now I've woken up in someone else's house – my neighbor's across the street. Two days ago I was gifted with this," he pointed to his badly bruised left eye, "and I don't remember what I did to get it."

The doctor frowned, "have you had blackouts before?"

"Never have."

"What are these little scars along your neck and back?"

"No idea. I noticed them the first morning I found myself in the neighbor's house."

"I've seen something like them before, when I went diving in the Virgin Islands. They look just like the scars left by a Portuguese Man o' War."

"Jellyfish?"

The doctor nodded.

"I've never even been to the Virgin Islands, and I think I'd remember being stung by a great jellyfish if I had."

The doctor shrugged and prescribed a complete physical.

"Because we don't know anything we'll be checking everything, Mister Kemp."

"You're the doctor."

)O(

"If I could afford to live here," Hermione sighed, "I could live here!"

"I could get used to this too. . ." Harry agreed. They were both beyond relaxed, laying, as they were, just a few feet away from each other on the lanai of the Hawaiian Village's spa being pampered by experts.

Maui born Lanikai, worked oil deep into Harry's tired muscles. She was an apprentice healer, as was Kaleo the Kane kneading Hermione's sore back. Both native Hawaiians had undemanding personalities that made them easy to talk to.

"So you have known the Kahuna Harry for most of your lifetime now?"

"Um-hum." She responded, "Since I was twelve."

"So all your adult life?"

"Um-hum. . ."

Kaleo caught Lanikai's eye and winked.

"You and the Wahine Hermione are life mates, yes?"

Harry relaxed into the sound of the Waikiki surf and the soothing voice of the island girl.

"Since I can remember – she is my oldest friend in the world."

"Lanikai has the gift of reading auras." Kaleo said.

"And what does your gift tell you?" Harry asked.

"Only those things you already know - and that anyone with eyes can see. You and she are like two trees that grow in a harsh land. Your roots are interlaced – both grew up in non-magical homes?"

Harry was alert and listening now, he nodded for her to go on.

"Your trunks are wound about each other, but not in conflict, rather you support each other. When there is plenty you share and when there is drought you share."

He looked over and saw Hermione apparently snoozing under her masseuse's practiced ministrations.

"She is the sister I never had."

Lanikai pouted. "Why do you tell yourself this?"

He lowered his voice, "because I couldn't bear to lose her friendship."

"Because?"

Harry answered with a faint whisper, "My best mate, my _other_ best mate, wanted her that way and I would not poach."

"He is gone now." It wasn't a question, she knew.

"Yes."

"Turn over please."

Of course Hermione had heard. She was the mother of a two year old child; even if she hadn't been a witch she still had the preternatural hearing of a young mother.

Kaleo and Lanikai carefully maneuvered the wheeled massage tables so that the couple who didn't yet realize they were a couple could be in close proximity to each other. The Hawaiian Kahuna smiled as the edges of their auras touched and merged. He began to hum a deep, soothing rhythm as Lanikai sang of the wind and the sea, the Earth and the sky, Pele, goddess of fire and Kanikanihia, goddess of love.

While what they were doing wasn't exactly sanctioned by the tenants of their vows to the Goddess and Healer's oaths, they recognized two halves of a shared soul when they saw one and decided that fate or Kanikanihia, or whatever had placed this couple in their hands for a reason.

Besides, it's not like they were dosing them with lust potions or anything, they were just nudging two halves of one broken soul together.

)O(

Jamie, Albie and Rose ran to their respective parents who were sharing a large hammock stretched between two coconut palms. They weren't exactly cuddling, each had a small paperback novel – his was Clive Cussler hers was Elizabeth Bear – they read shoulder to shoulder, hip to hip, thigh to thigh. Somehow it just felt right.

The tensile strength of the hammock and ropes was put to the test as two Weasley Potters and one Granger Weasley piled excitedly on the resting couple.

"We was in the water by the jetties!" Rose announced as she bounced on Harry's stomach.

"Fishy sang!" Albie shouted with equal enthusiasm from Harry's legs.

"Kayla showed us how!" Jamie added for clarification from Hermione's formerly dry side.

Kala, the director of the magical resort's day-care, had taken half a dozen children to the jetties, the low sea-wall just off Waikiki, fitted them with lines and bubble head charms and walked serenely into the ocean with her delightedly squealing charges in tow. She then taught the children how to listen to the "songs" of the fishes. She helped them hear the snapping shrimp, the 'thrum' of the drumfish, the hammering of the parrotfish's beaks against the coral and the far-off sound of whalesong.

Rose lay her head on Harry's shoulder and asked in a small voice, "do we hafa go home?"

Harry looked to Hermione for help and support. She smirked and said "We do sweetie, but we can come back."

The littlest Weasley looked at her mother with sad eyes, "do we hafa go home when we go home? I wanna stay with Daddy Harry."

It was Hermione's turn to look for support.

What she got was Harry looking pensive and saying, "why not stay with me and the boys, at least for a while?"

Which was exactly the wrong thing to say at that point in time.

"Pardon me a moment, please?" she said to Jamie, who moved to let her get up.

"Let's get us into some dry clothes, shall we?" She said lifting her protesting daughter from Harry's chest.

"Is Mummy Mynee mad?" Jamie fretted.

Hermione left and Harry felt as though a piece of him had gone with her.

)O(

Paul Kemp sat in the uncomfortable chair in the NHS screening room and tried to make sense of the questionnaire.

Does your family have a history of mental illness?

Have you or any member of your family experienced blackouts or times of memory loss?

Have you or any members of your family been diagnosed with schizophrenia or DID (Dissociative Identity Disorder)?

"Mister Kemp, we're going to start you on a daily regime of haloperidol – you don't normally drive, do you?"

"No, no need. I live close to the underground."

"Good, good."

"You'll be seeing Dr. Sperry every other week. Can you arrange a morning from Monday through Thursday for the first consultation?"

"Monday would be good; most of the office has a light schedule on Monday mornings, y'know?" Paul fidgeted in his seat, "Doctor, what is wrong with me?"

The NHS physician smiled benignly, "truth be told, we're not sure, but you show many of the symptoms of multiple personality disorder and we're going to try to treat you from that perspective."

"So I'm off my nut then?"

"People who are don't often think so, so that's a good sign actually."

"Well, thank you for that, Doctor."

"Not at all."

)O(

"Hermione, it's almost time - or have you forgotten?"

Hermione stepped out of the girl's room wearing a lavender tropical floral pattern tea-length strapless gown that did nothing to hide the slight "baby bump" in her belly.

Harry had never seen her looking more beautiful. He gasped, then collected himself long enough to hand her the box with her orchid corsage.

"Pin it on for me, Harry?"

He swallowed but soldiered on.

"Of course."

He gently lifted the fabric slightly away from her left breast and tried to not ogle the smooth flesh there. Harry pinned the fragrant flower in place and offered his arm.

"Mrs. Granger-Weasley."

"Mr. Potter."

The sitter arrived promptly at seven.

They found Amber at the concierge desk who took them to the taxi stand where the island version of the Knight Bus awaited them. Mundanes (as they were called in the States) could not see the plum stretch limo.

"Kiluea Cove please."

The limo accelerated with a bang, throwing the couple against the back seat.

Hermione grabbed onto Harry for support as he put a reassuring arm around her shoulder.

"I've been missing this today. . ."

He looked worried, ". . . I'm sorry Hermione, I wasn't thinking. Of course you need to establish the parameters of your own life – not have it defined by any man. I know I didn't make it easier by offering to take you and Rose into my home."

Hermione beamed at her best friend, "That's why we'll always be friends, Harry; you know what I'm thinking even before I do.

"I'll admit, I was upset with you earlier – I thought it was because you didn't support me when I was trying to tell Rose that we needed to, as you say, get on with our lives."

Harry felt as though a great weight had lifted from his shoulders.

"Friends?" he asked with a quirky smile.

"Best friends." She answered snuggling into his chest.

)O(

Kiluea Cove was a celebration of the magic traditions of the islands of Polynesia. Tahitians gyrated with sensuous abandon, much to the delight of the tourists as the native girls wore the traditional, that is to say topless, costume. The Hawaiian girls wore leis and skirts of Ti leaves and, as the suggestive swaying of their hips demonstrated, nothing else.

"Watch the _hands_, Harry, if you watch the hips you'll get into trouble!" Hermione chided.

The Polynesian witches were drawn to the potent magic radiating from Harry and more than one concentrated her allure in his direction.

But this was Harry Potter, who, as a hormonal teenaged boy, had been able to resist a Veela's considerable charms.

He smiled appreciatively and applauded politely but did not ogle and did not drool.

"Honestly, Harry, if I weren't sitting here with you I think that Wahine would give be giving you a Hawaiian lap-dance right about now!"

She looked taken aback for a moment, 'Oh my Goddess,' she thought 'am I keeping Harry from getting on with _his_ life?'

"Maybe I should leave?" she suggested.

But Harry would have none of it.

"But you _are_ sitting here with me, and that means I'm in the company of the _one_ girl in the islands I want to be with most."

'Damn you Harry Potter,' Hermione thought 'do you have any idea what you do to me when you say things like that?'

What she said was, "Flatterer!"

And hoped she wasn't leaving a wet spot on her seat as she saw adoration in his emerald green eyes.

)O(

Paul couldn't have alcohol with his medications so he resisted the urge to have "just a little bracer" before going home that afternoon.

He began to rethink his behavior over the past week or so, he'd been out drinking four times in as many nights. One or two with the mates after work and then gravitating to a pub or a club off the beaten path, blacking out and waking up with a large head in the neighbor's house. He considered going back to the doctor's office but then thought, 'no, he'll just chalk it up to latent alcoholic tendencies and put me on antabuse or some such.'

He promised himself that he would mention it to the mental health counselor when he saw him or her on Monday next.

A chill wind blew just as he was turning down his own walkway which forced him to hunker into his too light jacket.

He barely missed the thin red tendrils that reached down for him as he sprinted up to his own door.

)O(

Author's note: I'm just as desperate for Harry and Hermione to get a clue as anyone, but I refuse to make it easy on them. I love to read the stories where they realize that they've loved each other since they were pre-teens then proceed to rip each other's clothes off, really, feel free to write one or ten. But in my version of the HP universe nice and easy does it.

Antabuse is a drug given to fight alcohol dependency.

Haloperidol is a commonly prescribed psycho-pharmaceutical.

Paul Kemp is not the bad guy here, but sometimes bad things happen to good people.

I love Hawaiian music and have a collection of old Hawaiian records – 45s if you can believe it – and one of my favorites is "Watch the Hands." I need to transfer all those wonderful tunes to MP3's before they're lost.


	9. Chapter 9: Mahalo

Chapter 9 –

Chapter 9 – Mahalo

_Utro_. Is morning.

"_Dobro_ _utro_, good morning!"

The sun shines hot – it dries me.

Fog is good, keeps me wet, keeps me safe.

_Tarsia_ Kemp. I'm looking for Kemp.

Where is Kemp?

I wait for Kemp.

)O(

Five days into their Hawaiian holiday the Granger-Weasley-Potters were enjoying a beautiful morning on Waikiki beach when Harry felt an impending sense of dread – he looked around trying to assess the threat but couldn't see anything obvious.

"Hermione?"

"I feel it as well, and the kids are getting nervous."

He spotted Amber, the magical concierge, coming from the Rainbow Tower walking toward the beach with a purposeful stride.

Harry jogged up to her and took her by the shoulders.

"What is it, Amber?"

"Feels wrong, just feels wrong. Where are all the birds?"

Harry looked around and sure enough, the tiny zebra doves were nowhere to be seen. Normally the sidewalks were well populated with them as they tried to steal crumbs from each other.

Amber paled, "Oh Goddess, Tsunami. . ."

Harry shouted to Hermione, "We've got to get everyone to higher ground, now!" He turned to the island girl, "Isn't there an alarm or siren?"

"Yes, but it's centrally controlled."

"What if one siren goes off?"

"The others will follow."

"Where's the nearest one?"

"In the open air lobby, c'mon!"

Harry and Amber ran to the lobby where she pointed out the horn.

"What does it sound like?"

"A warning is two long blasts, followed by two short blasts, repeated for fifteen minutes."

Harry nodded, concentrated his magical core on the siren. He felt the circuits, following the wires to the central controlling station, and soon every tsunami siren on Oahu began to bleat a warning – at 130 decibels.

Tourists looked around worried, some laughed nervously until Amber got on the PA and said "Please proceed to the evacuation points in an orderly fashion, it may be a false alarm but we don't want to bet our lives on that, do we?"

AHAB activated, usurping local television and radio broadcasts, instructing people to seek higher ground.

"How high?"

"At least ten meters!"

The Americans in the group looked lost.

"Bloody Yanks!" Harry muttered under his breath, "about thirty feet up! It's an easy stroll up the slope of Diamond Head!"

Within fifteen minutes the hotel staff had all the guests evacuated. Harry did a scan and made sure no one was sleeping through the emergency and went to join Hermione on the mountain overlooking Waikiki beach. He found her surrounded by English and French speaking tourists who were trying to find out why the beachfront areas were being evacuated. Later, when asked why they were asking _her_ in particular, most people said, "Because she looks like someone who would know."

Harry looked back at the four towers of the Hawaiian Village and sighed, it had been such a nice holiday.

Movement. Harry spotted people walking near the base of one of the towers.

"Bloody tourists!" he grumbled, looking around surreptitiously, all eyes were on the Pacific Ocean. He crouched down and silently apparated to the base of Rainbow Tower.

"You need to get to higher . . ."

He stopped as he recognized several of the faces in the group. All native Hawaiians, Lanikai and Kaleo seemed to be leading them.

"Its okay, Kahuna Harry, were here to make sure the water doesn't damage the foundations of the towers. We will be the anchors that will keep the towers, the livelihoods of all our families, from leaning - or worse."

Harry noticed that some of the group looked nervous.

"But who will be _your_ anchors?"

Kaleo smiled, "we believe that all Hawaiians came from the ocean," then he shrugged, "sometimes the ocean takes us back."

"Let me help. I don't know why and I don't know how but I know I can help."

"This is not your duty, Harry."

"Isn't it?" he asked, "Lanikai, what does your sight tell you?"

She looked past Harry allowing her peripheral vision to sense his aura.

Then she looked deeply into his startling green eyes.

"That you will always choose life, but never your own first. That you listen to the magic, but do not try to bend it to your will. You let it do as it will."

She found it difficult to turn her gaze away from his.

"And you are _very_ stubborn."

He grinned, "Y' think?"

She knelt and directed Harry to do the same.

"Join hands."

Kaleo took his right hand, Lanikai his left. The other kanes and wahines took theirs as well forming a circle.

"Join your magic so that together we may keep the land from returning to the deep this day. Let the water be content to honor its boundaries with the land."

Harry heard Kaleo take a sharp breath and looked in his direction, the kane was looking at Lanikai as though she were completely crazy.

"Focus, everyone,

feel the wave,

it is restless.

It wants to run free.

It wants to climb the land just to see what is there.

Feel the spirit, the heart, the mind,

the soul of the wave in the water."

Harry could feel incredible energy just beyond his senses, like an impending eruption. He wanted to see what a ten meter tall wall of water would do to the land. Would it wash the stain of humanity away?

"Feel the land,

earth born of fire and water,

risen from the ocean,

its roots still deep within the water.

Feel the land."

This time Harry felt the immovable object and he knew what to do.

"We can do this!" Harry shouted.

"Do you believe, Kahuna Harry?" Kaleo asked, looking pale.

"Yes."

He looked at all the faces in the circle.

"We don't need to fight the power of the water, or pit the land against the water. We only need to give it an easier path. That's all. Just an easier path."

And all the Hawaiians knew exactly what the Kahuna from the other ocean meant.

They all concentrated on the wave, still many kilometers out to sea, and nudged it, just a little push to the side so that the main mass of the energy would pass far to the east of Oahu.

Seven brave souls who would forever after be remembered in story and song as forces of nature knelt, and bound their majiks to the Kahuna from the East. The sea level rose gently, spilling over onto the walkways and lawns, and yes, the open air lobby of the Hawaiian Village Hilton.

But rather than a ten meter wall of destruction, the waters just offered a gentle reminder that nothing in and around the deep is permanent - the Hawaiian Islands are on loan, not owned by those who choose to live there.

Fifteen minutes later a long, unwavering, "all clear" sounded and the tourists and tradesmen of Waikiki came down from higher ground, grumbling.

"So that's a tsunami, huh? I'm not impressed."

Lanikai smiled benignly. She was one of only a handful of people on the island who understood the magnitude of the force that had passed them by.

)O(

The next day Harry and Hermione were packing her massive wheeled luggage, most of the space had been reserved for presents to bring back to friends, neighbors and co-workers.

Arthur Weasly would be getting a small, spring loaded, grass-skirted hula doll and ukulele.

"I just hope he doesn't take them apart while were standing there!"

Molly would be getting half a dozen muggle cookbooks along with all the ingredients to make mango tarts and macadamia nut biscuits.

"I always feel as though I need a few days off after coming back from holiday, y'know? Time off to rest up from our time off. . ."

There was a gentle knocking at the door. Hermione opened it expecting room service; she wasn't expecting Lanikai dressed in ceremonial attire, complete with plumeria crown.

"May we come in?"

Harry joined Hermione at the door, along with all three children, who gaped at the beautiful island priestess and her attendants.

"Of course."

Harry felt more than a little uncomfortable when the entire entourage knelt at his feet.

"Please don't. . ."

"Hoahanau Harry," the priestess interrupted "Kahuna from the Islands of Britain, you are preparing to leave Hawaii, but know this, these island are, and will ever more be your home. Someday soon your heart will be drawn back and when it is, we, your _ohana_, your family, will be waiting for you."

Harry knelt before Lanikai and said, "I must say that I have been more at peace here than anywhere else."

The native priestess leaned forward and kissed him on each cheek, when she drew back Harry felt a slight weight on his chest. He looked down and saw a thin gold chain, from which hung a native turtle symbol.

"Mahalo, Lanikai."

She bade Hermione kneel with them, and kissed her likewise.

"Your wahine, Hermione, is also hoahanau, as your lives will ever more be entwined."

When the girls leaned back Hermione had been gifted with a set of matched pearl earrings in tiny gold plumeria settings.

"What is hoahanau?" Hermione asked, reverently.

"It is family by blood, cousins."

"But we're not. . ."

The priestess pulled a great white shark's tooth from the string on her left wrist and used it to slice her palm. Then handed it to Harry who copied her before handing the tooth to Hermione.

She sighed and said, "Why is it always blood?"

Lanikai interlaced her fingers, first with Harry, than with Hermione so that their palms touched.

"Now there will always be a little English Island blood in my family, and a little Hawaiian Island blood in yours."

The ritual done, Lanikai rose gracefully to her feet, as did Harry. Hermione accepted a little help up. The priestess bade them hold out their palms. When they did she kissed the shark tooth cuts - healing them without the trace of a scar. Harry did the same for Lanikai.

"May I speak with you for just a moment, Harry?"

He nodded and let himself be led into the hallway by the island girl.

Hermione intentionally didn't listen to the conversation but could tell it was getting interesting as his head and neck suddenly went bright red and the Priestess kissed him a warm farewell.

"Ever going to tell me what that was all about, Harry?"

"Um, no."

Hermione smirked and ushered the kids off to bed.

"But it's early!" they whined.

"It's early here but much too late to be up back home."

"Awwwww. . ."

They protested all the way to bed, drank from their sippy cups and were soon asleep.

We'll carry them through the portal around two AM local time, that'll put us back at Heathrow around tea, then we can see our in-laws.

"Molly and Arthur will be over the moon."

Harry chuckled and kissed Hermione on the cheek,

"Thank you so much for coming."

She gathered him into a fierce hug and said, "Wouldn't have missed it for the world."

)O(

Paul Kemp woke up in his own bed. He smiled and settled back into the duvet.

"No bloody big head this mornin'."

He had a quick shower, enjoyed coffee, eggs, beans and toast while watching the telly.

"That's it, I'm takin' the pledge, I don't want t' see another drink until my wedding day, an' that'll be to toast the bride!"

He stepped out of his front door, reveled in the smell of fresh air and the warmth of sunshine on his face and, smilingly, stepped into a curtain of red, stinging tentacles.

Paul's face contorted in pain but his agonized scream was silenced as he blacked out.


End file.
